


Supermarket Angel

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Chance Meetings, M/M, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started over in Produce, by the cucumbers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supermarket Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the July 2011 round of Blindfold.

It all started over in Produce, by the cucumbers.

Jared’s staring at the thick, green lengths of vegetables and trying to figure out just exactly which one would suit his needs the best. It would have to be big, of course, and hard. Thick, preferably, but not overly so. Sizable. All his preferences aside, though, the only thing he’s really asking is that it not be limp. Limp would do him no good. No good at all.

He’s stroking his fingers over each one, tempted to pick each one up and squeeze a little, test it out, but he’s managing to refrain when a tanned arm enters his line of sight and snatches a cucumber right off the top. Jared’s mouth drops open because he’s fairly sure that _that_ was the one that he wanted now that he thinks about it but as soon as he turns to say so, the words die on his lips. Jared stutters a bit while the angel that just popped down from heaven to pick up a little lunch for God slowly blinks his green eyes and offers Jared a hesitant smile—a slow quirk of plush, full lips that gets Jared thinking about things he shouldn’t. Then the angel grabs up a red pepper too and leaves Jared standing there, staring like a crazy person while he tries to think of something to say.

He’s got nothing.

By the time Jared manages to turn around, the guy’s gone. It’s more than likely that he’s just gone to another aisle but Jared privately thinks that he floated back up to heaven. Jared notes the encounter in his head for private review later on—Mr. Green Eyed and Quick with the Selection is going to feature in Jared’s own personal movie later on whether he knows it or not—and tries not to feel like a moron as he finally grabs a cucumber.

He’s pretty sure that it’s not nearly as good as the one the angel took but Jared’s willing to admit that it’s just because this one hasn’t been hand selected by God.

* * *

The next time, Jared’s staring at the peanut butter, leaning back to try and encompass all the jars on the shelf and wondering why there needs to be quite so many brands. He doesn’t know which is better—if he should go with the JIF or the Skippy or the Peter Pan or just the generic off-brand because it’s cheap—and he’s unsure if he’d even be able to tell the difference. He’s tempted to go with JIF because that’s the brand that moms choose but Jared’s not a mother and his mom hates peanut butter anyway. There’s the Skippy but Jared doesn’t like the name because it reminds him of his little sister constantly beating his uncoordinated ass at Hopscotch and Jared’s always had a bit of a thing for Peter Pan. He identifies a bit with him, he supposes.

So he decides on the Peter Pan but that still leaves him with too many choices. Smooth and Creamy or Crunchy? Regular or Low-fat? Should he just say ‘fuck it all’ and grab the one with the honey already mixed in? As he’s thinking, a hand reaches for a jar of the all-natural stuff that Jared hadn’t even considered, snagging it off the shelf just to Jared’s lower right. Jared glances downward and forgets how to breathe.

The supermarket angel smiles up at him from where’s he’s almost kneeling on the floor and at the perfect height for Jared’s mind to blank completely. He might have pictured this just last night, actually—in with a few other things. As he stands there like a dolt, the angel stands up to his full height—nearly Jared’s size which makes Jared’s heart beat a little faster because there’s hardly _anyone_ his size. Jared’s given another smile and then the angel reaches up to grab a jar of Nutella off the top shelf.

Jared wants to say something smart, something witty, but what do you say to _an angel?_ Would it be blasphemous to throw out a pick-up line or two? Or, even if Jared did, would the guy laugh because Jared only knows the really cheesy lines? And, really, Jared just wants to find out if the guy would be okay with Jared licking each and every one of his freckles because Jared’s been thinking about them a lot more than what would be considered healthy.

He’s still standing there, his mind spinning in park when the angel leaves, disappearing down aisle three.

* * *

Over by the crackers, Jared’s attempting to figure out if he really cares about the salt content of saltines and if unsalted saltines still count as saltines when he hears a throat clear lightly. “Uh, sorry,” a guy says, his voice deep and rich. “I just need to…” A hand grabs a box of oyster crackers off the shelf by Jared’s belt and Jared raises both of his arms to stop himself from just grabbing that hand and putting it where he really wants it. His eyes dart downward to meet a familiar pair of lips smiling awkwardly. “In a hurry,” the guy says and Jared nods.

He doesn’t bother to stop the guy when he jogs around the corner—the guy did say he was in a hurry, after all—but Jared does crow to himself that he managed to talk to his own personal angel. Sure, it was more that the angel had talked to _him_ and he’d just nodded but it still counts in Jared’s book. He’s improving.

* * *

The next time that Jared catches his own little glimpse of heaven, it’s because he almost literally runs into it. He’s a tall guy and his eye-line’s a little high so he almost didn’t see the man bent over in front of the soup. He manages to stop himself before he completely embarrasses himself, though, and then spends the next thirty seconds tossing that bit of dignity under the bus while he gapes at the ass in front of him. With the guy bent over like he is, Jared’s got a clear, unobstructed view of the way those jeans cling lovingly to every curve and Jared knows what he’s going to be thinking about later on in the shower.

He’s reminding himself that it wouldn’t be polite to just step up behind the guy and rub his cock against the crack of the ass that’s being presented to him—nice, yeah, but certainly not polite—when the angel straightens and turns, holding a can of Campbell’s. “Oh, didn’t see you there,” he says, shuffling to the left.

“N-not a problem,” Jared squeaks out, glad that it sounds smooth as long as he ignores the first part. He knows that he should probably follow up that nonchalance with another quick one-liner or a grab for a can or something but he gets caught up in trying to count the guy’s freckles. There’s a lot of them.

“Well, uh…okay.” The angel sidles away and Jared realizes that he’s been staring like a creeper.

He wishes that he could melt right into the floor. Clean-up, Aisle 5.

* * *

Jared really thinks he’s ready for the next time the supermarket angel decides to descend down from his cloud. He’s been practicing in the mirror and everything. He doesn’t know why, but there’s just something about this guy that makes his tongue tie in knots. It’s never happened to Jared before and he’s hoping that it’s only temporary.

The only problem is that for the next two weeks, the angel’s nowhere to be found. Jared takes to spending more time than is absolutely necessary when he shops, haunting each of the aisles one by one until the employees start to know him by name and strike up a conversation if they have time. It’s pathetic and Jared knows it but he can’t seem to care. He hasn’t had much dignity about the whole thing right from the beginning so he doesn’t figure that he has to change now.

He keeps at, laughing off the jokes about applying for a job even though he secretly considers it, and, like his father always said: hard work pays off. Jared stops dead in his tracks as he’s passing the wine aisle, catching sight of a familiar figure standing in front of the Chardonnays, one hand tucked under his chin while he considers.

All of Jared’s carefully planned lines fly out the window but he steps in to the aisle anyway, hoping he’s got enough together to wing it. Green eyes cut over to meet his and those plush lips curve upward. “Hey.”

Jared sticks out a hand. “Jared,” he says

The angel looks at Jared’s hand and his smile widens. “Jensen.” He takes Jared’s hand with a grip that’s firm enough to make Jared’s imagination board a train without him. His brain’s already got Jensen halfway naked before Jared realizes that he’s supposed to say something else.

“Uh…”

Jensen ducks his head, hiding his smile and then comes back up. “You want a drink?” he asks, pulling off a random bottle. Jared doesn’t even like wine but he nods frantically. He’ll learn to love it if he has to.

* * *

They end up back at a small apartment, clean with comfortable-looking furniture, and a little kernel of warmth grows inside Jared because of being invited into Jensen’s private space. Jensen grabs two glasses out of the little corner kitchen and Jared stands at the breakfast nook while Jensen pours him a glass.

Sometime during the walk between the supermarket and Jensen’s apartment, Jared’s managed to shed his awkwardness, piece by piece like one of his dogs and their clumps of fur in the summer. He’s laughing and joking and somehow manages to find out that Jensen’s a grad student and just finished up a two week observation this past Saturday.

How they move from Jensen’s kitchen, though, to Jensen’s wall, with the glasses sitting back on the counter and Jensen’s tongue pushing into Jared’s mouth, Jared’s not quite sure—but he likes it. He more than likes it. He grips Jensen’s ass with both hands and lifts him up while Jensen gasps and shudders. He leans Jensen against the wall to get some leverage as Jensen happily wraps his legs around Jared’s waist and lifts his head up, baring his neck for Jared. Jared nips and sucks his way downward as Jensen curls his hands in Jared’s hair and whispers filthy, dirty things.

It’s in the middle of Jensen saying such things as, “Fuck me, Jared. I want to feel your dick inside me,” that Jared decides that if Jensen is an angel, he’s definitely a fallen one. Jared’s more than okay with that. He fields each of Jensen’s kisses as Jensen breathlessly directs him down the hallway to the bedroom, content to let Jared carry him there when Jared insists.

Once they hit the bedroom, Jensen makes Jared put him down as he strips off his shirt and Jared eyes the bed as he does the same. It’s a queen, done up in soft blue, and he wonders what it’s going to be like to see Jensen spread out over top of it. When Jensen tugs Jared forward and pushes him against the wall, though, Jared realizes that he’s going to have to find out the answer to that little puzzle later. Especially once Jensen turns them and ends up with his head buried in his arms and his ass squirming against Jared’s cock.

Jared shudders and licks his way across Jensen’s shoulders as he rolls on the condom that Jensen tossed him earlier before slowly sinking in to tight, perfect heat. It’s damn near heaven. Jared pants against Jensen’s skin, his tongue flicking out every now and then just to get a taste while Jensen clenches around him and starts to move, his hips rocking back and forth, coaxing Jared to move with him.

Jared tries to make it last, he really does, but all too soon, he’s clutching Jensen’s waist and slamming into him as he muffles a shout against Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen waits him out, letting himself be pushed forward by each of Jared’s ending thrusts, whispering things like, “Fuck, yeah, fuck me…” while he fondles his own cock. It’s not exactly poetry but Jared will take it.

When he’s done—worn out and spent, he flips Jensen around and drops to his knees. He lets Jensen grip his hair and tousle it back and forth while Jared busies himself with sucking Jensen down until he screams.

It’s more like a choked-off moan but it makes Jared shiver nonetheless.

* * *

Afterward, they’re curled up in Jensen’s bed—he really does look nice sprawled across it; the blue goes great with his skin tone—and Jared’s not sure why but he’s confessing the whole sordid mess about how he wanted to talk to Jensen and ask him out on a date for weeks but couldn’t seem to manage it.

Jensen counters that, though, with a confession of his own and Jared finds himself in a tailspin. “Uh…yeah,” Jensen says, sounding a bit shy. “I was hoping you’d notice me and make a move so I didn’t have to.” Jared stares and Jensen ducks his head. “You’re lucky that you didn’t get mounted over by the eggs, man,” he confesses, putting a hand over his face though his embarrassed grin peeks through his parted fingers. “There’s a spot there that’s…off-camera.”

“Oh,” Jared says quietly, his mind already conjuring up the image. Then… “So…we can try that, right?” Jensen bursts out laughing, but Jared’s halfway serious. If they get caught, well, he knows where Jensen lives now so he can always find another supermarket.

Jared grins and leans over to kiss Jensen’s full lips as Jensen hums happily—his own, personal angel.


End file.
